Lady Mouse
by Starsister12
Summary: Set a year before the events in The Scarlet Pimpernel, a mute French lady falls in love with a young Englishman who is a member of the Pimpernel's gang. Can she keep their secret from the Committee of Terror?
1. Conversation

Chapter 1

_**Conversation**_

"The Baron and Baroness de Beaumont and their daughters, the Ladies Lucinde and Angela de Beaumont!"

"I am so glad to see that you could come," said the Countess de Tourney graciously, smiling at her guests. "How are you, my lord?"

"Very well, Madame," answered Baron de Beaumont with a bow, kissing her hand. "You become more lovely each time I see you."

"Oh, you are too kind," she replied, smiling. "And how are you, my dear Baroness?"

"Very well, thank you Madame," answered Baroness de Beaumont, also smiling and clasping the Countess de Tourney's hand in greeting. "I don't believe you've met my daughters, Lucinde and Angela?"

The Countess turned her eyes on the two young women standing behind their mother. "Why, no, I don't believe that I have. Welcome to our fête, my dears."

With a rustling of crimson silken skirts, the taller girl sank into a graceful curtsey. "You are too kind, Madame. It is we who must thank you for inviting us."

Baron de Beaumont smiled, holding out his hand. "This is our eldest, Lucinde." Countess de Tourney could hear the pride in his voice, and with good reason. Lady Lucinde was a truly stunning woman, her long, dark hair pilled in curls atop her head in the latest fashion, glimmering golden pins securing it in place. Her skin was fashionable pale, offsetting her dark hair and deep green eyes that were set in a face of classical beauty. Combined with her golden jewelry and the scarlet gown that accented her well-endowed figure, she was sure to be the belle of the fête.

"And this is our second child, Angela." The girl also sank in a curtsy, and rose from it to gaze directly at the Countess, a look of interest on her face as she cocked her head very slightly to one side. Somehow, this action seemed endearing to the Countess as she took in her measure of the girl. The contrast between the sisters was astonishing, for they looked almost nothing alike. Angela was obviously a few years younger than Lucinde and seemed to be aware that she stood in her sister's shadow. Her dress was of a soft sky blue trimmed in white rather than gold, and was of a slightly more simplistic and modest cut. Tresses of a warm, but non-descript brown were cut shorter than was fashionable for young ladies and pulled back in a simple, though elegant tail. Her face was pretty enough, but nowhere near as stunning as her sister's, with a small, pert mouth, stubborn chin, and slightly darker skin, as if she spent more time in the sun. Angela's only striking feature was her stormy blue-grey eyes that smoldered with a quiet intensity and intelligence. For a moment the Countess met those eyes before they were demurely lowered. Strangely, the girl carried a small shelf of paper and a simple black pen in her left hand. The entire effect was of a young, plain, virgin child rather than of a confident, beautiful, and marriageable woman.

"I hope you enjoy our fête, Angela," said the Countess kindly. "I am sorry that we had not met before. Have you been on other outings with your family?"

Angela smiled slightly, inclining her head, but saying nothing.

"I apologize, Madame," said the Baron, "but Angela has been unable to speak since she fell ill with a fever when she was eight. Alas, she has been unable to regain her voice in the past twelve years, and uses the written word to communicate."

"Oh, I am sorry, my dear," answered the Countess, feeling mortified.

Angela smiled again, shaking her head slightly. She swiftly wrote something down on the shelf of paper and held it out to the Countess. The words, _"It is alright, Countess. You could not have known. Please, do not apologize_," were written in a clear, firm hand, despite its haste.

Curious, the Countess asked, "You do not find this method of…speech to be tiresome?"

Again Angela wrote, _"No, not really. I find that the written word helps me to express myself much more clearly than spoken words. Although, sometimes it is hard for me to keep up with fast conversation in witty company."_

"Well, if anyone is speaking too fast for you to reply, send them to me, and I'll set them straight," said the Countess with a smile. To her relief, Angela smiled back with a look of pleasure on her quiet face.

Just then, the Countess's daughter Suzanne approached, resplendent in an emerald green gown, along with her father, the Count de Tourney. While her husband exchanged greetings and pleasantries with the de Beaumont family, the Countess introduced Suzanne to Angela, asking her daughter to "take Angela around and introduce her." Suzanne, taking an instant liking to the silent girl, eagerly drew Angela after her into the crowded ball room.

Angela looked around with carefully restrained interest in the proceedings, putting names to faces and faces to names as Suzanne took her around. She politely responded to Suzanne's queries via her paper and pen, liking the girl, but not willing to get too close. After all, she was supposed to be invisible. Before long, Suzanne was drawn away and Angela was left to her own devices. Which was exactly what she wanted.

Glancing around carefully, Angela found a slight alcove near a heavy drape where she could sit, listen, and watch without being too noticeable. Soon she would mingle with the others, but for now she wanted to see the eddies and currents of the people, which could tell her as much as she would have learned listening. By seeing who mingled with whom, how they interacted, and who they avoided she could see at least some of the pattern and hierarchy of power.

One of those eddies caught her eye. Puzzled, not exactly sure what was so unusual about it, Angela left her hidden corner and softly made her way towards a small knot of young men. By their dress and speech, they were English aristocrats with a poor grasp of French. Or, at least, one of them had a very poor grasp. His accent was horrible, his manner loud, and his gestures exaggerated. Almost…_too_ exaggerated. Angela came closer watching this loud, yet strangely dainty fop. As she listened, she gathered that this was a fellow by the name of Sir Percy Blakeney, Baronet, and his companions Lord Timothy Hastings, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, and Lord Anthony Dewhurst from the Jockey Club near London. Lord Hastings had dark brown hair, laughing eyes, and appeared to be quite good at charming the ladies. Sir Ffoulkes was a little taller with much lighter hair, and wide blue eyes that gave him the appearance of being constantly surprised, but he also had a ready wit to match Lord Hastings. Lord Dewhurst, however, though he was a match for Sir Ffoulkes in height and hair color, was much quieter, smiling at the proceedings, but keeping an almost watchful eye out as well.

She noticed that very few other men tolerated Sir Percy's presence very long, although the ladies and a few other male dandies remained, listening to him spout trivialities, such as the sad state of his _cravat_. Angela watched, fascinated at this display of utter inanity. Was is possible for men to be that silly? And she had thought women were bad when it came to fashions and clothing.

However, the three other young men seemed to be less "dandified," content to let Sir Percy provide the evening's entertainment. They seemed to…defer to Percy in a subtle, but very real, manner. This deference was slight, so slight that anyone else would have overlooked it. But Angela had spent half of her life watching for these subtle clues in stance and manner. By learning to read people's manners, she learned much more about their character, their strengths and weakness, what they wanted known and what they tried to hide. There was something here…something that was not quite right to her eyes, and she wanted to find out what it was.

"Sicmay, but I believe we have overlooked someone," came that horribly accented French. "No need to hide in the shadows, my dear. Please, do come and join the revelry."

It took Angela a moment to realize that Sir Percy was speaking to her. She flushed slightly as eyes turned towards her. She was supposed to be invisible, not the center of attention! No use worrying about it now. Curtsying deeply, Angela stepped out of the shadows into the midst of the little gathering.

"Why, if it isn't Lady Mouse!" cried Lord Treylas, stepping forward to kiss her hand. She kept a smile pasted on her face, even though she cringed inside. Lord Treylas, while a decent sort of man, was terribly dull and boring, unable to talk of anything coherently except his birds, wine, and occasionally, women.

"Forgive me, milady," said Lord Hastings politely, turning towards Lord Treylas, "but, sir, did you say, 'Lady Mouse?' "

"Indeed I did!" cried Lord Treylas in delight. "Lucinde de Beaumont's little sister, don't you know?"

"Lady Angela de Beaumont," said Lord Dewhurst, bowing with a smile. "I have heard of your father's exploits in agriculture. His terrace farming along the Hills is quite remarkable."

Angela blushed again, this time with pleasure, and smiled back. Finally, someone who knew she had a name other than the one Lucinde had given her!

"Yes, yes," answered Lord Treylas, waving his lacy cuff dismissively, "the very same. Lucinde dubbed her 'Lady Mouse' since she's so shy and quiet."

Angela swiftly wrote on her paper and handed it to Lord Treylas. _"Ah, but I daresay I could out-write you, my lord."_

Lord Treylas roared with laughter at her words. Seeing the polite bemusement of his companions, he explained Angela's predicament. "Can't speak a word, you see. Poor girl had a fever when she was little, been silent as the grave ever since."

This time Angela felt a quirk of anger at Lord Treylas's caviler attitude, but suppressed it. He could not help being a fool, and getting angry would not help matters. However, the inevitable rejection by these men would still hurt, as it hurt every time she went out into society. They would listen politely, make soothing noises, and then promptly forget her. It made her job easier, but it was still a lonely existence.

_"I do apologize for disturbing you,"_ Angela wrote, _"but your discussion was so interesting, I had to stop and listen."_

"No harm done, Madame," Sir Percy said with a wave of his bejeweled fingers and a silly smile on his face. "Perhaps you would like to join us? I promise you we will not speak faster than your pen can write."

"If you would like, my lady," said Lord Anthony, "I will read your words to the others so that you may participate more easily."

Angela stared at the young man, who was watching her with an open, welcoming expression on his face. Never before had she been invited into a discussion, nor had any man ever offered to read her notes aloud for the benefit of the other participants. For a moment she continued to look into his light blue eyes, searching for some sign of mockery or distaste, but there was none of that, not even pity, which was…refreshing. Slowly, Angela lowered her gaze to her paper where she wrote, _"Thank you, my lord. I would be most honored."_

After a round of official introductions, the discussion resumed in earnest, and Angela found that, for once, she was actually enjoying herself. Normally she kept to the outskirts of social functions, hiding in the shadows and emerging only once or twice in the course of an evening. Now, here she was, fully engaged and enjoying every moment of it. Her pen flew across the pages, her eyes flowing from one face to the next, drinking them in. True to his word, Sir Percy kept the pace a little slower than usual so she could keep up, but no one seemed to mind. And Lord Anthony read her notes aloud so the others could hear and respond to her ideas or queries. Angela loved listening to his strong, clear baritone as he read, the tone and inflections placed perfectly. She continued to marvel at his willingness to help her.

As for Anthony, he found Lady Angela de Beaumont absolutely enchanting. She was modest as a maiden, yet possessed a fine and ready wit. She tried to sink back into the shadows, yet her eyes cried for someone to acknowledge her existence. The look of complete surprise and gratitude on her face when he had offered to read for her had touched him, and Anthony wondered what kind of treatment had caused her to be so startled at this simple kindness. Perhaps it was Angela's inability to speak that caused her to hide so she could avoid embarrassment, malicious taunts, or well-meaning but insensitive remarks. Anthony was glad that Percy had allowed Angela entrance to their little group, if only for a short while to help her feel less alone. The quiet glow of happiness on Angela's face warmed his heart as well.

All too soon, the fête came to an end and Angela's parents came looking for her.

"Ah, there you are, Angela!" said the Baroness de Beaumont. "Come along, my dear, we must go."

Angela made a quick hand motion, looking at her mother earnestly.

"Oh, Angela, you know Mother can't understand those bird flutters of yours," said Lucinde, oozing over to them with her arm tucked securely in the crook a well-dressed gentleman's arm.

Anthony saw the blood race away from Angela's cheeks, leaving them pale, as she lowered her eyes to her paper. _"Please, Madame, I must say thank you and farewell to these fine gentlemen."_

"Yes, thank you for entertaining little Mouse," said Lucinde, bestowing a flirtatious smile on the men. "I do hope she was not a burden to your discussion."

"Odds fish, Madame, the Lady Angela has a wonderful eye for the cut of coat sleeves," said Percy generously. "Faith, I had no idea how such a small detail could set off the whole effect. Really, you must come again, milady, lest our coats suffer from neglect."

Angela smiled, and curtsied. _"You are too kind, Sir Percy. I have learned more today about men's fashions than I have ever heard of in my life. Thank you for including me." _

"'Twas nothing, m'dear," he answered flippantly, but something in his face made her realize that he understood her gratitude.

Angela bowed graciously to the others, and then turned to Lord Anthony. She smiled shyly, and handed him a note. _"Thank you, Lord Dewhurst, from the bottom of my heart. Your kindness means more to me than you know."_

Anthony looked up from her words, meeting her wide, blue-grey eyes. "You are more than welcome, my lady," he said, kissing her hand. "And please, my friends call me Tony."

Another one of her shy, brilliant smiles came across Angela's face. She curtsied one last time, and then followed the rest of her family to the door.

"What a nice young lady," said Andrew, watching the family go.

"I can't say I care much for her sister, the Lady Lucinde," answered Timothy, a look of distaste on his face. "That woman looks like the cat that ate the canary."

Percy did not say anything, carefully watching Anthony. The young man was watching Angela leave, not saying a word, but there was a quiet longing in his eyes. And chances were he would never say a word because for him, the duties of the League always came first, which was one of the reasons why Anthony made such a good second-in-command for the Scarlet Pimpernel. Unfortunately, his devotion also meant that he would put the League first once more, and might lose a chance of finding great happiness. Percy clapped the young man's shoulder. "Well, Tony?"

Anthony blinked. "Well what, Percy?"

"Are you going to let her go?"

He lowered his eyes. "You have said so many times that the more who know about us, the greater chance of discovery."

"Pish posh, my dear fellow!" In a more serious tone, Percy added, "True love is something that only comes once, Tony. Maybe this is your chance."

Anthony looked at Percy for a moment, then glanced at Andrew and Timothy, who gave him encouraging nods and winks. Taking a breath, he squared his shoulders and said, "Very well, then. Percy, I would like your permission to court Lady Angela de Beaumont."

"Oh, you have my full-hearted support, my dear fellow," Percy answered. "Although," he added in his usual droll manner, "I think you'd better ask her father first."

As she stepped through the front doors of the de Tourney's house, Angela could hear a roar of laughter coming from the general direction of the little gathering of dandies, and smiled.

---


	2. Calling on a Lady

Chapter 2

_**Calling On a Lady**_

"Angela?"

"Yes, Monsieur de Beaumont," Anthony replied, bowing slightly in respect. "I should like your permission to call upon your youngest daughter."

"Angela?"

Anthony was beginning to wonder if Baron de Beaumont's mind had gone soft, but was careful not to let that thought cross his face. "Yes sir. You do have a daughter named Angela, correct?"

"Yes," answered the Baron, appearing flustered, "but…_Angela_?"

Puzzled, Anthony asked, "Is the lady not well?"

"Oh, no, she's quite well," said Baron de Beaumont, "but…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"But you expected a young man to come calling on the Lady Lucinde," Anthony finished, finally understanding the reason for the Baron's confusion. "Your eldest daughter is quite beautiful and charming, my lord, but it is the Lady Angela whom I wish to see."

For a moment, the Baron just stood there, staring at Anthony, either to take his measure of the young man or to question his sanity. Anthony was not quite sure which, and did not think he wanted to find out. Angela's father interlaced his fingers, still peering at Anthony from under his bushy eyebrows. The Baron was a heavyset man getting up towards his later fourties, eschewing the latest clean-shaven fashion with a thick brown mustache and close-cropped brown hair. Baron de Beaumont was notorious for his dislike of wearing powdered wigs; no one in his family used them. He was also a successful, if slightly pompous businessman and landowner, which gave the de Beaumont's great economic power. That influence, and substantial contributions to the French Republic, was probably the only reason the de Beaumont family had not been sent to the guillotine by Robespierre and his committee of killers.

"You are aware that my daughter Angela cannot speak?" Baron de Beaumont asked abruptly.

"Yes, quite aware, my lord," Anthony answered carefully.

"And this…defect does not concern you at all?" The Baron's muddy green eyes were fixed on Anthony's blue ones.

"I would not call Angela's silence a defect," said Anthony, carefully controlling his anger at the man's casual treatment of Angela's handicap. "Rather, it only heightens her charm and beauty."

"Humph," grunted the Baron, pacing slightly from side to side. Anthony held still, watching and waiting.

"My daughter is not as ladylike as she might have appeared at the de Tourney's fête, Lord Dewhurst," said Baron de Beaumont, still pacing. "My wife told her to be on her absolute best behavior there. Alas, she is not always as proper at home. Lord only knows I've tried everything to remedy that tendency, but…"

"Baron de Beaumont," said Anthony quietly. "If this is a roundabout way of saying 'No,' then I wish you would say so more directly."

The Baron paused in his pacing. "I'm simply trying to warn you ahead of time," he replied. "Most men don't take a second look at Angela. In fact, I think you are the first one to do so. And I want to know why you, Lord Dewhurst, a wealthy English aristocrat, would be interested in seeing a mute French girl."

Anthony squared his shoulders and took a breath. "Because, my lord, I seek permission to court the Lady Angela."

The Baron could not have looked more stunned if Anthony had taken a board and smacked the Frenchman across the back of the head. Suddenly, the Baron turned and called, "Danielle! Danielle!"

Anthony turned and saw a maid come into the room through one of the high-arched doors. "You called, my lord?"

"Yes, Danielle, where is my daughter Angela?"

The maid looked surprised, but quickly masked it. "I believe she is in the stables with Jeanette, sir. Her mare Starlight is foaling today."

Rolling his eyes heavenwards, the Baron motioned to Anthony and said, "Please take Lord Dewhurst to the stables. He wishes to call on Angela."

At those words, the poor maid's eyes nearly popped from her head, but again she composed herself, curtsying to Anthony. "This way, if you please Monsieur."

"Thank you, my Lord de Beaumont," said Anthony, hiding his surprise and pleasure by bowing deeply.

The Baron waved his hand dismissively. "You may change your mind once you see her. But if you don't, then you are more than welcome to call on the Lady Angela. Though," he muttered to himself, "I can't imagine why."

Once more, Anthony bowed, and then followed the maid Danielle through the arched doorway. They passed through several opulent and elegant rooms, designed to show off the wealth of the de Beaumont family and to impress visitors rather than to create a cheery home-like atmosphere. This was a place for overwhelming people, not to make them feel at home. Rather like the Lady Lucinde, Anthony thought with a slight grimace. A pretty ornament, but with no substance or warmth.

As he stepped through yet another arched doorway onto what appeared to be a foyer, which meant they were close to reaching the exterior of the house, the maid Danielle suddenly turned back towards Anthony, blocking the closed door in front of him.

"Before we go another step, my lord, I would like to know your intentions towards the lady," said Danielle, looking afraid, but determined to make herself heard.

Anthony blinked. Most servants were not so forward. "May I ask why you are so concerned for the welfare of the lady?"

Danielle flushed, then raised her chin stubbornly. "I ask because there have been a few men who have come before. Very few. They showed an interest in Lady Angela only until they learned she couldn't speak or until they learned she had a beautiful sister. After that, the lady ceases to exist."

"And why do you care so much for her?" Anthony asked curiously.

"Because she's the only one who cares for us, sir," answered the maid. "We worked hard to keep the de Beaumonts from going to Madame Guillotine only for Angela's sake. We convinced Citizen Chauvelin that the de Beaumonts were worth more to the Republic alive than dead. Thank God he listened."

"So you saved an entire family of _aristos_ for the sake of one young noblewoman?" Anthony was stunned at the loyalty shown by the servants of the house. "Madame, I am quite impressed and deeply grateful to you."

Now it was Danielle's turn to appear puzzled. "Grateful, Monsieur?"

"Yes," said Anthony. "If you and the other servants of the household had not saved the de Beaumont family, then I never would have met Lady Angela."

Danielle looked at him for a moment, a curious expression on her face. "You _do_ care for the lady."

Anthony nodded. "Very much."

There was another moment of searching hesitation. Then the maid inclined her head and opened the doors to the patio.

---


	3. The Second Meeting

Chapter 3

_**The Second Meeting**_

Danielle led Anthony along a gravel pathway from the patio towards the stables. Another thing Baron de Beaumont was famous for was his taste in horseflesh. Due to his success in agriculture, the cost of maintaining a well-stocked stable was minimal. As a member of the Jockey Club, Anthony could appreciate the mass amount of time, labor, and care that had to be lavished on so many horses. The de Beaumont stables were a greater sign of wealth than all the gold and jewels in the main house.

"You mentioned earlier that Lady Angela has a mare," Anthony said as he followed Danielle into the nearest wing of the stable. "Is the lady fond of riding?"

"Very much, Monsieur," Danielle answered. "Starlight is her personal mount, takes of her herself, the lady does. Starlight's been expecting a foal, and Lady Angela has been fussing over her like a mother hen these past two weeks." Anthony smiled, thinking that was exactly the sort of thing Angela would do.

The scent of fresh hay, leather, and the warm, natural perfume of horses enveloped him, and Anthony marveled at the exquisite care that had been taken in the design of the stables, everything fashioned to provide the greatest comfort and safety for the horses. The stalls were spacious, airy, well-lit, and very clean. At their passage, most of the horses poked their heads out of the stalls to gaze at the strangers or nickering a greeting. The brightness of the horses' coats and the lively inquisitiveness in their eyes showed that just as much attention was paid to the equines themselves as to their surroundings.

Danielle led Anthony towards a line of box stalls towards the end of the stable. Anthony could now hear the labored grunts and breaths of a mare well into labor and the voice of what had to be another maid.

"Ah, she's through the worst of it milady! Almost time now, we should see the little darling any second now…Eh? Oh, the cloth, milady? Here you are…now just be patient, she knows what to do."

Motioning for Danielle to be silent, Anthony walked as quietly as he could to the door of the stall, unnoticed by the occupants. On a thick bed of straw lay a bright bay mare with slender legs and a gracefully molded face with a small patch of white hair between a pair of wide, bright, intelligent eyes. Another maid with her dark brown hair pinned up and armed with a clean cloth crouched by the mare's back legs, keeping an eye out for the forthcoming foal and making soothing sounds to calm her. Angela sat in the churned-up bedding with the mare's head in her lap, stroking her gently and occasionally wiping away the sweat. The simple, pale green skirt and white shirt was mussed and dirty, and she had straw tangled in her hair, but the look of infinite tenderness and concern on Angela's face transformed her from a demure child into a shy but shining angel. Anthony felt a similar smile of tenderness come across his own face just looking at her.

Suddenly, the maid gave a cry. "Ah, here it comes!" Angela looked up sharply and stroked the mare a little faster.

Anthony saw a pair of slender legs marked with white stockings appear and suddenly, without a fuss, a small, slippery bundle slid into the straw. The maid quickly wiped the foal's nostrils clean so he could breathe and began toweling off the birth fluids. For a moment the mare just lay there, breathing hard, then forced out the afterbirth before slowly clambering to her feet and turning a curious gaze towards her foal. Like all foals, it was awkward and gangly looking, peering up with eyes not yet adjusted to the world of light. The mare looked at her foal for a moment, blew out her breath, and began licking it. Within moments, the little one was standing on wobbly, shaking legs, head buried firmly beneath his mother's flanks, suckling nosily.

"Told you she knew what to do, milady," said the maid, looking immensely pleased. "What a beautiful little boy you have!" she added, patting the mare, who only flicked an ear and turned her attention back to the hay in her crib. Angela only smiled and rubbed the mare's neck.

Just then, the maid spotted Anthony and Danielle at the stall door and let out a small cry of surprise. Angela jerked her head around, but otherwise did not move, having the presence of mind, even when startled, not to frighten the horses. Her blue-gray eyes widened in surprise and then pleasure. She turned and curtsied, blushing slightly when she saw the stains on her skirt.

"Why, who on earth are you?" the maid in the stall demanded, looking both surprised and suspicious.

"I apologize for starling you," Anthony said, bowing, "but you seemed so absorbed that I did not wish to disturb you." This was directed at both women, but his eyes were on Angela.

The young lady blushed again, and her hands moved as if she wanted to write something, but her pen and paper were nowhere in sight.

Danielle stepped forward and opened the stall door. "Come on, milady, let's get you presentable, shall we?"

As the two maids began tugging her away, Angela looked at Anthony, a mute apology in her eyes. Suddenly worried at the trouble and humiliation he might be causing, Anthony said, "I am sorry for coming at such an inconvenient time, Lady Angela…"

She reached out and grasped his hand, shaking her head with another shy smile coming across her face. Looking imploringly at her maids, Angela made a few quick hand motions. Danielle looked at Anthony and said, "The lady says no, that she is very glad you did come and she is sorry that she wasn't ready to receive you properly. If you would wait only a few minutes…"

Anthony bowed. "Please, do not worry," he said, "For a chance to see you, my lady, I would wait until the end of the world."

Blushing furiously, Angela allowed herself to be hustled off by the maid from the stall while Danielle led Anthony out of the stables back to the patio where another servant waited with cool drinks to offer the Englishman. But Anthony only had eyes for the doors that led into the manor as he waited for the fair Lady Angela de Beaumont.

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End file.
